It's Stark's Fault
by scatterfrost
Summary: Tony Stark loses a bet, wreaking havoc on the lives of his teammates and friends. From a prompt on avengerkink on livejournal.


It's Stark's Fault

Disclaimer: Marvel and Disney own the Avengers. If I did, well. . .

Steve Rogers wakes slowly, sitting up, realizing that's a very bad idea, closing his eyes because the room is spinning. His head is pounding in a way it hasn't since before he was given the super soldier serum. How the hell can I have a hangover, he thinks. . .then realizes he's not wearing anything besides the sheet in which he's tangled. He won't panic. He's not the panicking type. Standing, he wraps the sheet around his middle, searching for his pants. Not on the floor beside the bed, nor under the bed. But his button-down shirt is hanging from one of the light fixtures, his boxers are hanging on the bathroom doorknob and his t-shirt is on the back of a chair.

That makes him stop. A chair. Part of the living room suite of a very large room with a hell of a view of what he remembers is the Las Vegas strip. Vegas. Oh yes. One Anthony Edward (Tony-is-so-dead) Stark's bachelor party. That explains everything. Or not. Like why is head still pounding, where the hell are his pants and why are there articles of clothing not his own also scattered around the room? He follows the trail back to the opposite side of the bed. Black dress pants and a matching jacket, a white dress shirt. Shoes. His shoes. A striped silk tie knotted around the bed post, connected to a human arm, the rest of the body burrowed under the covers.

Taking a deep breath, Rogers grabs the comforter, flipping it back to reveal one Agent Phillip Coulson of SHIELD. Sweet mother of God, what the hell is going on? He pokes Coulson in the shoulder, but he doesn't move. Rogers grabs him by the shoulder, shaking him, but he only rolls as far away as his tie-tethered wrist will allow. Rogers does see something in Coulson's free hand—a crumpled piece of paper. He wrests it away from the other man's grip, smoothing out the wrinkled paper, jaw dropping when he sees what it is—a marriage certificate, with their names. It's then he notices the gold ring on his left hand, and a quick glance shows Coulson is wearing a matching band.

This is a startling new development, Rogers notes, going back to looking for his pants, a cell phone or something that will tell him where the hell he can find the rest of his teammates and figure out what the hell happened.

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Natasha Romanoff brushes the hair out of the eyes of her bedmate, kissing his forehead. Clint Barton was sound asleep. For that, Natasha was grateful, no doubt his reaction upon waking would be. . .interesting. She had a vague recollection as to how they ended up where they were. A hotel room. A very nice one, with a fantastic view of the Vegas strip.

She remembered something about an Elvis impersonator, but he didn't look much like Elvis Presley. Much too skinny, and his hair was too long. And Tony Stark whining about getting on with whatever because he'd lost a bet. Some bachelor party, she mused. She would've been better off staying back in New York and helping Pepper Potts with the final push before her wedding. Something was bound to go wrong, and by the looks of things, it had, judging from the ring on her finger.

She remembered a wedding, with an officiant who looked suspiciously like Loki, but that was just the alcohol talking. Apparently, it was her wedding to Clint, wasn't it, but that's where things went sideways. Natasha remembered the presence of her teammates and a few other people, like Thor's girlfriend Jane Foster, her best friend Darcy Lewis and Rogers' buddy Bucky Barnes. Well, who or what or why didn't matter. She was fine with it, and would sort everything out in the morning.

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Bruce Banner knew a whammy when he felt it. Something about the other guy made him sensitive to Asgardian magic, and he was currently feeling the aftereffects. His head hurt, and he was definitely missing his clothes. Not that he minded, but he wondered where he was and who he was with. In a bed, of course, with a warm body pressed up against his own. Not a bad way to wake up, considering some of the places he was used to coming back to his senses. Only this time, he wished he could remember. Another oddity was the presence of a ring on his left ring finger.

At the moment, other warm body was waking up, groaning. Interested in finding out the identity of his bedmate, Banner sat up. Oh hell. It was Bucky Barnes. Rogers was going to kill him. Or not, depending on where captain spangles was at the moment. Banner remembered something involving Rogers and Coulson handcuffed, standing before an Elvis impersonator, with Natasha as a bridesmaid? No, that couldn't be right. No, part of it was. At least the part with the Elvis impersonator.

Now Bucky was staring at him, looking panicky. Perfect.

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Thor Odinson was a happy man. He was in bed, his lady love Jane Foster's head pillowed on his chest. He hoped the rest of his teammates were as happy as he. He owed his brother and Tony Stark. How best to repay them? He'd come up with something, or he'd have Jane help. Except how was he going to explain to his father why he was wed to a Midgardian? Oh wait-Loki was going to have to explain the same thing, so they could explain together. Less chance of Father killing them both or casting them away without their powers.

Well, Loki was going to have his hands full with his new lady wife. Thor grinned at that thought. Oh what a party they were going to have to celebrate.

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Loki, god of mischief, brother of Thor and son of Odin Allfather was locked in the bathroom of a Midgardian hotel room, wondering what he was doing. A young, not unattractive human woman was throwing things at the door, yelling for him to come out or else. His new wife. A worthy one was she, but he wished she'd calm down. Apparently she didn't like being 'magicked' as she called it, because why would someone like her be married to a skinny ass like him?

He wasn't going to say anything about the bet he'd made with Stark. The idiot had lost, but Loki didn't look at it that way. All of Stark's teammates, friends, associates or whatever he called them were now united in marriage with the person they were meant to be with.

Loki sighed, deciding it was time to man up and go face his new wife. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

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4 a.m. and Tony Stark was sitting outside on the curb in front of the Palms, wondering how he got there and where the rest of the team was. His head hurt from more than the alcohol, and why the hell was he wearing an Elvis Presley sequined jumpsuit? Had he lost a bet? Uh, yeah, apparently. . .Fury was going to kill him. He couldn't remember where he'd left his car, or his teammates or his wallet. Pepper was going to kill him. And where had he left Rhodey? Oh God. . .some bachelor party this was turning out to be. . .


End file.
